CHAPTER THREE #2
She fought back tears. Both parents gone.
She made herself redirect her thoughts, lest her feelings overwhelm her.
‘And the villagers? I recall… it was Dafydd pulled me from the well. And I saw Rufus… who else lives?’ she asked, deliberately and carefully framing the question to receive good news rather than bad.
‘Owain, by heaven’s grace, for we should be lost without our smithy.
A handful of crofters who were safe in the hills.
A gaggle of plant,’ she tutted at the thought of the orphaned children.
‘Mouths to feed, though some may have work in ‘em. Two of your father’s soldiers returned wounded but are mended well enough to be of use now. The priest would not leave his church and paid for his loyalty with his life.’
‘Poor man. And… that is all? So many lost.’
’T'would have been worse, had not the grasping youth leading those murderous strangers been wearied from his wounds, the worst of which you inflicted upon him, it is said. Do you recall?’
‘Hubert de Chapelle? I shall never forget him!’
‘Nor he you, after how you left him.’ The old woman emitted a wheeze of laughter.
Gwen could picture all too well her knife removing the tip of the man’s nose.
It was not enough, not for what he had done.
Even so, she had to accept she had made an enemy.
When he discovered she was yet alive he would, without doubt, seek revenge for his disfigurement.
‘I should leave. When word reaches him of my escape from the well he will come after me and all those who are with me will be in peril.’ She tried to swing her legs over the side of her cot but the effort made her senses spin.
‘Duw, duw! What nonsense! To talk of leaving when to walk the length of the room would have you on your knees.’ The old woman flapped her hands, determined not to see her charge undo all her good work. ‘Healing will take as long as it takes. It knows neither master nor mistress.’
‘At least send me Dafydd. And Rufus. I must speak with them. We must be ready.’
‘You will spend your energy too quick!’
‘Mamgi, please do as I bid you and fetch the men!’ Gwen looked at her levelly and knew that the old woman still respected her standing, still accepted that this girl with a fraction of her age and wisdom was her superior.
Seeing that belief written on the face of the person who had used all her considerable knowledge to restore her to health humbled Gwen.
‘Forgive me,’ she said softly. ‘I spoke out of turn.’
‘You did not.’
‘Things are not as they were. I am no longer the daughter of your lord. I am a woman alone, and no better or worse than the rest. We are what remains of the village. We must work together to survive now.’
At this, Mamgi straightened up. Though barely five foot tall, she seemed to grow in both vigour and stature as Gwen watched.
Her expression was earnest. Her voice, when at last she spoke again, was clear and strong, the speech of a far more youthful woman, and one possessed of a wealth of power and knowledge.
The transformation was astonishing, and completed by a visible aura, a trembling halo of pale light that seemed to surround the woman.
Her sparse white hair stood on end, moving as if blown by a supernatural breeze.
‘You know not what you are!’ she declared, pointing at Gwen.
‘You do not yet understand what you will be. The time will come when you are all and everything to each and every person here, and many, many beyond. You will learn of your destiny, and that learning will be hard. And the becoming harder still. There will be times when you will doubt, and you will question, and you may beg to be set free of the weight that shall be yoked to your young shoulders, but carry it you must! There is no other who can take your place. The words have been spoken.’ Mamgi fell silent.
She staggered forwards, reaching out a hand for the arm of the fireside chair and sinking onto the sheepskins that covered it.
She was breathless, clutching at her chest, her whole, frail body shaking.
‘Mamgi, are you well?’ Gwen asked, frightened for her, wary of questioning her about her strange, frightening speech in case it further distressed her.
‘Sleep,’ was all she would say now. ‘For pity’s sake, child, let us sleep.’
London 2019
Tudor stopped on the steps of the police station, waiting for DI Chowdhury to join him.
Theirs had been a long and thorough interview, and his statement had been meticulously recorded.
With the two of them having history, it was clear the detective was not going to leave herself open to any accusations of favouritism.
She emerged from the building at her habitually brisk pace, business-like, efficient, and still on her guard.
Tudor recalled how their brief affair had ended and was pleased to remember there had been no rancour, no bitterness.
The fact that they had been friends for years before any romantic entanglement helped.
Still, things could never be neutral between them, even after the years that had passed.
He fell into step beside her as she continued towards her car.
‘I’ll give you a lift back to the Aurora,’ she said, handing him her coffee to hold as she fished in her bag for her keys. ‘You’ll be called to give evidence at the inquest, so make yourself available for that.’
‘And my gun?’ he asked, handing her back the cup.
She looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Like you’ve only got one? Evidence, I’m afraid. You’ll get it back. Eventually. Jump in, then. I’ve got a date with a bath and a bottle of Merlot.’
Tudor was glad the journey to his own car was a short one.
While they had been processing the events that took place in Flat Seven they had both been in professional mode.
With their work done, and now in the confines of DI Chowdhury’s BMW, however, they were joined by a prickly silence.
He looked out of the window, seeing nothing but forcing himself not to think back.
The past was the past. They were different people now.
‘So, after Afghanistan, bit of high level security, you say, and now…’ she paused to curse at a white van and blast her horn before continuing, ‘…a bodyguard. Bit tame for you, isn’t it?’
‘Not today.’
‘Yeah, but, babysitting a rich kid? Really?’
‘Pays the bills. Keeps me nearer home.’
The detective took her eyes off the road to check his expression briefly. ‘How is Emily?’ she asked.
At the mention of his daughter’s name, Tudor checked his phone. He found the text he knew would be there. Where the hell are you? We are going to be late. He sent a line about being held up and promising to be there as soon as he could. ‘She’s good, thanks,’ he said.
‘She must be, what, thirteen now?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘OM fucking G.’
‘Exactly.’
After a beat DI Chowdhury asked, ‘And Marisa?’
‘Oh, you know Marisa… not a woman to change,’ he replied, just a bit too flippantly. ‘You can drop me here,’ he added.
When the car came to a halt at the curb he climbed out, leaning back in to thank her briefly for the lift.
‘It was good seeing you again,’ she told him.
He nodded. ‘You too, Debs,’ he said, and was surprised to find he meant it.
For a moment he thought of saying something, re-establishing the connection.
She saw him hesitate and waited. But, no.
Too much going on. Too complicated. Never go back.
She noticed the shutters going down and switched back to professional mode.
‘So, don’t leave town; we’ll be in touch,’ she said, pulling away before he had properly swung the door shut.
Tudor checked his watch. The later he was picking Emily up, the longer it would take to calm her down.
And he was too tired for a long fight. He ran up the steps to the Aurora, using his keycard to gain entry to the lobby.
The concierge spotted him at once and opened the inner doors.
They exchanged a few words, expressing their mutual shock at what had taken place, before he hurried up to the Wallace apartment.
Charlie was more excited than alarmed by the news of the gruesome killings.
With what Tudor considered to be typical teenage detachment, he listened with some relish to the details, prodding for ever more description, almost enjoying the horror.
If Tudor hadn’t been accustomed to the way kids thought, and how what they showed was often at odds with what they felt, he would have been pissed off at the boy.
As it was, he was content that his charge was neither traumatised, nor in danger, and could be left to settle in to the apartment, on the proviso that he call his mother and not leave the flat until the following day.
As Tudor unlocked his Audi he noticed two figures out of place.
They looked to be young men, hanging around, watching the building.
Both were wearing hoodies and keeping to the shadow of the trees at the entrance to the car parking area.
They weren’t doing anything wrong, and there was nothing remarkable about the way they looked.
They just didn’t fit. Tudor’s trained eye took in the expensive trainers, the bits of bling, the slight restlessness.
Too well off for your basic thugs. Too sketchy to be residents of the area, let along the building.
They became aware that they had been noticed.
One flicked a cigarette into the flower bed.
The other turned his back, kicking at a stone.
The pair walked away, knowing they were being observed.
Even so, the taller of the two looked back, checking on Tudor one last time before they turned a corner and were gone.
Emily had inherited her father’s dark eyes and strong physique. From her mother she had acquired her super fast brain and, less helpfully, her quick temper. When he reached her house in Fulham she was waiting outside, arms folded, gym bag at her feet.
Tudor lowered the window and tried a smile.
‘I hate you,’ she said.
‘Good to see you, too, Pumpkin.’
‘You are such a prick.’
‘But a prick with a car. Come on, hop in.’
‘Oh, now he’s in a hurry! Keeps me waiting over an hour, makes me late again, but now I have to get a move on. Jeez.’ She stomped round and jumped into the passenger seat, giving the door a well practiced slam.
Tudor put his foot down. The fact was, Emily had his sympathy.
He hated being late, and couldn’t blame her for being pissed off with him.
It was a long way from being the first time.
And their sessions at the gym mattered to her because Tae Kwan Do mattered to her.
It was their thing. If he messed it up she read it as he didn’t care. And that hurt. Both of them.
‘There was an incident. At the apartment building. I had to go to the police station and give a statement.’
‘Like I care.’
‘Well, OK, you probably don’t, I just wanted you to know that…’
‘…that you didn’t mean to be late, and it wasn’t your fault, and it was work. I know,’ she said. And then, her shoulders sagging a little, she added, more quietly. ‘I know, Dad.’
‘I am sorry, Pumpkin. Really.’ He reached over and squeezed her hand and she let him. A truce, then. They drove on in silence for a while, the tension fading. At last he tried again. ‘So, tournament coming up. How ready do you feel?’
‘Less ready than I should.’
‘No, really? You’ve got this.’
‘School’s been hectic, last of the exams, I haven’t done as many training sessions as I did this time last year…’
‘When you nailed it, correct me if I’m wrong.’
‘Yes, but this is a rank up. The competition’s getting tougher. I have to be better than my best.’
He nodded, knowing that she wanted to be heard, not argued with.
‘OK, let’s schedule in another couple of training sessions.’
‘When for? The gym’s fully booked most times I can make it. Everyone who’s got school wants the same slots.’
Tudor thought for a moment and an idea made itself known to him. ‘Actually, I might be able to help out with that.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I’ve an… acquaintance at a seriously cool apartment block. They have a gym. Plenty of space. Plenty of availability too, I should imagine. Might be able to get you some time in there.’
She opened her mouth to find fault but then changed her mind, a small smile adding warmth to her pretty face. ‘How cool?’ she asked.
The rest of the journey passed in comfortable banter and chat.
Since he and Marisa had separated he had treasured the time he got to spend with his daughter.
He was thankful their shared passion for marshal arts gave them something to work on together.
They arrived at the gym less late than they had anticipated.
He parked up and took her bag for her as they headed for the entrance.
It was only as he held the door open for her that he glimpsed a four-by-four at the corner of the car park.
Only then that he noticed the two figures in the vehicle.
Even through the slant of the window and the fading light of the day he was fairly certain that they were the same two men he had seen watching the Aurora building.
With a flash of adrenaline shooting through him, he put on his most natural smile, turned, and followed Emily into the building.